


Humans Make Dangerous Pets

by neichan



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-23
Updated: 2010-06-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neichan/pseuds/neichan
Summary: When you adopt a pet you never know what you'll get





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: Moonridge fic: for Nancy  


* * *

Major Evan Lorne stared at the two men in front of him, disbelief written all over his face. Un-fucking-believable. Two of his best men. Two who never gave him trouble, who were ~the~ elite among the elite Marines, who always got the job done with absolutely no drama or fuss. Whose judgement he trusted. Implicitly. Until now. Now they had fucked up royally. Now he didn't know what to do. They stared at him, he stared back. They were miserable, and he was glad of that, because so the hell was he. What was he going to do now?

 

Neither one could look him in the eye for very long, and he couldn't blame them. John Sheppard might be called easy-going by some, and a good commander by just about anyone who lived in Atlantis or had worked with him in the trenches. His superiors might think Shep was a pain in the ass, and a maverick, but the men who stood alongside him when the bullet flew, the men who waited for someone to fly in like a bat out of hell and rescue them, those men loved John Sheppard. The Marines in particular loved him. He was good looking, efficient, he had a sense of humor. He was a fighting man's leader, no bullshit. He could be vicious. But if your nuts were in the fire, he'd come get

you. What else would a Marine want in a commander?

 

Understanding. Slow to anger. All of that was true. It was also true that there was one sure way to get his ire roused.

 

Lorne took another step closer to the devastated Marines. He lowered his voice, because he did not want this to get out. He wanted to get it fixed first, then when he could present the lost item to its owner, intact, then he didn't care who knew it had been temporarily lost. Right now 'Temporarily' was the most important word in the English language.

 

"What do you mean you lost him?" Lorne scooted closer, looked around the empty room one more time, making sure they weren't being overheard. He hissed the question from less than six inches away, his normally calm eyes heated, white hot. His grip on his P-90 threatened to crack the weapon in half.

 

Markham, looking as gutted-miserable as a man could look, spoke after swallowing hard. "I swear, there was nothing we could do. He was next to the 'Gate, dailling his portable. We were taking fire, and laying down covering fire in return to give him time to dial Atlantis. A shell got past us, exploded next to him, and he was just gone, through the 'Gate." He swallowed again, "there was nothing we could do."

 

It didn't matter that it was true. It didn't matter who knew that it was true. They had lost Rodney.

 

"Was he hurt? Injured? Is he lost and dead, lost and hurt or just lost?" Lorne had visions of Rodney... vaporized in space, blown to pieces, on a Hive ship, in Genii hands. He forced his mind away from those horrifying images. He had to act like Rodney was retrievable. Alive and retrievable.

 

"There was nothing...." Stackhouse repeated his partner's words, then stopped. He exchanged a heartsick glance with his fellow Marine. They knew they were in boiling hot water. Nothing could be worse, there was no worse sin to perpetrate against John Sheppard, or against Atlantis. Atlantis loved Rodney. He kept her humming. And John....well, no one would say it out loud, but everyone knew.

 

"Well," Lorne started. Then stopped. He shook his head. It would hardly help matters if he yelled, but he wanted to. Hell, he wanted to ~cry~. "Christ. You better find him." He snarled. "Before the Colonel hears about it."

 

"Hears about what?" Colonel John Sheppard asked from less than a foot behind him.

 

Lorne jumped out of his skin.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

15 Minutes before....

 

Rodney ran. A jouncing, half panicked coverage of ground that was not pretty, nor terribly coordinated, including far to many elbows and knees to be graceful. The rough, uneven, grass covered ground didn't help, every time he didn't watch where he was going or where he put his foot down, he tripped and stumbled. It was an all together inefficient way to cover ground, and if his legs weren't moving so fast he'd have been up the proverbial creek. He was, however keeping ahead of the Marines who were firing at the enemy behind them. He was gaining on the Stargate with each step, but far too slowly to make himself happy. He understood, at this moment, why John so loved speed. Faster, faster, he needed to go, FASTER.

 

The way Rodney ran at the best of times did not resemble the easy lope that he'd been trying to copy after watching Sheppard's ground eating, incredibly smooth stride. He'd learned almost at once that when John ran, Rodney didn't want to look away. It was mesmerizing. Of course that was John's strength, what kept all those native women mesmerized, he had a beauty in the way he moved, an economy, fluidity that defied resistance; it was more than the beautifully goofy smile he threw at them that captivated them, young and old.

 

Rodney would never tell anyone, but he was as guilty of watching John as any of those drooling Pegasus women. Yes, Rodney was guilty of just watching the man move, walk, fight, shoot, dance, eat. And a few times, late, off on some world or another, Rodney had watched John sleep. Those times had defied his ability to find words to describe them, and he barely admitted to himself that he did it, that he looked forward to it.

 

Those times, late at night in the quiet dark, were the times when he learned he'd very gradually fallen in love with the man who taught him to run.

 

Rodney had found out pretty quickly that he wasn't built for that same kind of effortless running he so admired. Not even with lots of training and practice (which a certain Major made sure he got). He could run though, and fast enough, when he had to, from large hunting animals which an abundance of teeth, irate tribesmen, the Wraith. John trained him ruthlessly until he could.

 

This running was an example of all out panicked, scrambling, "run for his life while pursued by natives who once again did not mean SGA-14 anything good" kind of running. And the Marines were right behind him this time, Markham and Stackhouse, running just as hard, just as ugly.

 

This time Rodney didn't have John watching his back. Why had he agreed to this? A trip out into the Pegasus galaxy without John Sheppard to watch his back? Loaned, with his full agreement, to SGA-14. Because these John-less trips always turned out so well. He should have known better by now. What an idiot. He was a genius, but he was also an idiot.

 

Frantically Rodney tried to punch in the code for Atlantis while he was running without falling ass over teakettle.. Not as easy as it looked. Not as easy as loading a gun on the run, or shooting, or for that matter screaming, he thought, instinctively ducking as the brush next to him exploded into a thousand sharp splinters. He swore as he dialed the wrong address, his jouncing thumb hitting the wrong final symbol, not Atlantis.

 

It took several long moments to void the address so he could begin to input a new one. He crouched down next to the Stargate, trying to make as small a target as humanly possible, and started to more carefully punch in the right address. While still. His breath was harsh in his own ears, even over the shouting and screaming of other people, the Marines who John had sent to watch over them.

 

He heard another thump!/whump! directly behind him.

 

And then he was flying. Right through the Ring. Hole in one, he thought woozily. Right back to Atlantis.....


	2. Chapter 2

"It appears Rodney was dialing the portable DHD when the explosion threw him though the Gate. It was not Atlantis, though the men with him thought he was dialing home and he didn't save the address to the drive before he was thrown through the gate, and from the data I am receiving I believe his DHD to be damaged. He may not be able to use it to dial Atlantis when he arrives where he went." Zelenka rambled on. Usually John let him, but he wasn't feeling very patient today.

 

"Unless he dialed a space gate." John growled, his shoulders hunched defensively against that possibility. Voicing his deepest fear. What if Rodney was already dead?

 

"Yes. Or if he dialed one buried under a mountain, or under water." Zelenka sounded even less happy than John was right now while considering the disastrous possibilities. The difference was, John was holding a very big gun, so Elizabeth was keeping her eye on John rather than on Radek.

 

"It will take some time to discover what address he came up with without the device itself to refer to. We do have the first four symbols figured out, but the explosion may have shorted the crystals and input any number of other symbols. It is possible that even he did not know what address he dialed. There were two others in the Team who were dialing at the same time. And SGA-7, 4, 10, and 13 were also heading out on their own missions, or returning at virtually the same time. All using portable devices to dial. We must sort through all of those data." Zelenka shook his head sadly, a deep furrow between his

brows.

 

John glared at him, thinking he didn't look upset enough, too much like he was considering an interesting problem, but the scientist didn't seem to notice, punching the keys of his laptop and making hmmmming noises.

 

"You ~can~ do it?" John asked after he'd been ignored for several minutes, his eyes just a little more intense than Radek liked. He was glowering, showing no sign of his happy-go-lucky smile. Radek swallows hard, his eyes growing wary behind his glasses.

 

"You will be able to find him? Right?" John asked pointedly, his voice rising. It was surely only an involuntary move that raised the muzzle of the P-90.

 

"Yeeeesss." The word was drawn out, sounding less than reassuring, and John frowned.

 

Elizabeth frowned, too, taking her eyes off of John to refocus on Radek. "That didn't sound promising." She said with a hand on John's shoulder to silence him. She wasn't surprised to feel him vibrating like a too tightly wound spring. She tightened her fingers, digging the tips in to get his attention. She didn't want to see the P-90 lift any higher.

 

"I can find out the addresses that have been recently dialed. Say over the last week. After that you will have to check them out. Some we will already know, some...were dialed in error and go nowhere. It happens. Errors. Those we will have to check out one at a time. In person or with the Malp." He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the stares he was receiving. "Uh, go check, uh....each...." He swallowed. "I will get you a list. One of them will be one that Rodney has gone to. I am certain." He sounded anything but.

 

John turned on his heel and stalked out.

 

Elizabeth sighed, this was not good. Not good at all.

 

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

 

"Oh, Spikeyyyyy!" Harmony tottered into the room in a cloud of blonde hair and pink-rhinestone studded cropped bustier and black leather leggings so tight Spike knew if he turned to look he could see her unmentionables every bit as clearly as if she were naked. Her ridiculously high pink spike heels clattered excitedly over the authentic Mexican tile Spike had just had installed. He winced

envisioning the scuffs and scratches she was leaving behind. Her shiny lipsick matched the shoes perfectly.

 

A small dark shape whizzed past the natural blonde's head. Then another, and a third. Excited squeaking followed in the objects' wake. She let out an irritated shriek and waved her hands ineffectually. The sound cut through the air like a razor blade. The little body on the table in front of Spike jerked in reaction. He scowled, his own ears ringing.

 

It wasn't that he didn't like his girls...they were his...and he

really liked them, made sure they all knew it. He always took good care of them. But there were times...Spike sighed.

 

Harmony squealed again, her feet clattering as the creatures buzzed her again. Spike could hear the excited, high-pitched squeaks of the flying creatures. They were having a blast dive bombing the female vampire. Harmony executed her own squeal again, far more piercing and not fun at all. Spike grit his teeth so hard he thought he might snap a fang.

 

That tone cut through a bloke like a knife through butter. Gently, he laid a calming hand on the soft back of the tiny creature an the table until it quieted, returning to its prior stupor. He was at the point of bringing everything together, he didn't want to be distracted, make an error, and spoil everything. Starting over made him feel a bit churlish, it did. Waste of a perfectly good spell.

 

"Not now, Harm. I'm a little busy, here." Spike said clearly, calmly, he couldn't quite keep all the annoyance from his tone. He bent back down over his latest furry project. This was the most gratifying time. He made one more delicate correction of muscle to bone, tested it out, feeling the thrill of watching the wing twitch. Tiny, blue sparks tingled in the air. He pursed his lips in wonder. It was magical, every time. Nothing else was ever as good. He was beginning to understand the strange attachment humans had to these little things. Pets. Not nummy treats like human-pets, but pets in a different way. A soft, furry, fun way.

 

"But you are going to like this!" She went from chirpy to pouty with no less volume and an added stamp of her feet. Which was far, far worse than whiny. He hated pouty. He straightened impatiently, turned clear, dark blue eyes her way, letting her see the flashes of impending gold in their depths. She didn't cringe, she hopped in place, to excited to quail.

 

"What. Is. It?" He asked biting off the words. Hoping she would get the message. He wanted to be left alone, he was working. All his girls knew not to bother him when he was working. Any other time he'd stop what he was doing and listen to them. He liked them all, he took care of them, lavishing attention on them. In turn they took care of him. It was the perfect arrangement, equitable. It pleased him to no end.

 

But not when he was working.

 

He cut his eyes back to the table. He'd almost....

 

"Spiiiiike!" She whined, stamping both feet now, coming close to overbalancing and toppling. She caught herself at the last moment, preventing the fall. She opened her mouth to relay the news that just wouldn't wait.

 

The door slammed back on its hinges. A tall, slender teenaged girl rushed in, vibrating with energy, eyes wide with excitement. Her dark hair hung long and thick down her back, held away from her youthful face by two simple tortoiseshell barrette clips. She wore new designer blue jeans and a purple tank top. She was grinning. Spike sat up, he couldn't not smile at his favorite girl.

 

Dawn Summers ignored Harmony and hurried over to plant herself in front of Spike's desk. She leaned in close to him, eyes sparkling.

 

"Something just came out of the Hellmouth. It looks like a man." She announced her news, eyes glittering like Christmas lights. Harmony huffed, her thunder stolen.

 

Spike sat upright, his project momentarily forgotten. He looked at Dawn. Saw she was perfectly serious. A human had come out of the Hellmouth. That was...unusual. Demons, sure, but a human? It certainly bore investigating.

 

Carefully he concentrated on putting his experiment under a protective stasis spell. It took several minutes, he had to be careful or everything would be spoiled, he hated it when bits fell off. At last Spike stood up, brushed his black T-shirt clean.

 

"A man came out of the Hellmouth? You are sure?" He emphasized the last. Some things looked human, but weren't. Dawn and Harmony both nodded their certainty. "Now that ~is~ interesting."

 

Spike led the way out of the room.


End file.
